


Compassion's Remorse

by piecesofsolas



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Forgiveness, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 04:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15744084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piecesofsolas/pseuds/piecesofsolas
Summary: Cole is dead and it's Ellana's fault.  Unable to burden the responsibilities of her actions, Ellana packs her bags and treks North, away from the burdens of Inquisitor. What started as a  means to outrun her guilt soon turns into a reunion between old lovers.





	Compassion's Remorse

Autumn had finally found its way to the Dales, painting its trees with a soft orange glow that reminded Ellana of the first time she had awaken with him beside her. The morning sun had draped across their bodies as promises were spoken between soft kisses and lingering touches. It was a memory that Ellana have not visited since he left, and it was only when she was alone that she allowed herself this small reprieve. His touch haunts her still and it did not help to remember him.

Quietly making her way through the ancient forest, Ellana pulled her cloak closer for warmth as the trees cast soft shadows against her steps, tracing the outline of her body as she continued walking. She had been wandering for days without a destination in mind, simply keeping a steady pace as her steps took her further and further away from her responsibilities. She had convinced herself that if she just kept walking, she could outrun her guilt. But every now and then, the crystal around her neck would hum and the familiar voices of Dorian and the others would vibrate quietly across her chest.

“Ellana, are you there?” Dorian would inquire.

“Inquisitor, my friend … Maker watch over you,” Cassandra would pray.

"Look, kid. It wasn’t your fault.” Varric would insist.

Their words and the beauty of the forest brought her some comfort but she never responded. Choosing instead, to clutch the crystal painfully, sending a pulsating warmth to the other side, letting them know she was still alive. She was not yet ready to face the burden of her failure to protect the people she loved. The memory of his death was still fresh, her grief a searing pain that was still too raw and vibrant with sorrow. She blamed herself.

She and Dorian had worked relentlessly to heal Cole after the team was attacked returning from another successful campaign. When the battle had cleared, and all accounted for, Cole was laying on his back clutching the sword that had struck his chest. She had ceased to breathe, to think. “Cole! Look at me, focus on my voice. You’re going to be okay …..” Each word sent a chill down her spine that had her moving in motion, barking orders, screaming for potions and bandages; channeling whatever she could from the Fade to keep him alive.

“Pain. Pain. It hurts. A searing hot flame that burns,” blood flowing, words gasping, breath shallow. "Too much blood. A hurt I can't heal. It's my fault. It's my fault. I have no magic left.”

He echoed her fear, but she bit her lower lip, not wanting to acknowledge the truth with words or movement, hoping instead that Cullen and his team would find them instead.

“Boss, he is losing too much blood. We have to move him back to camp.” Bull’s gaze had shifted to hers, holding them steady until the words penetrated her mind. “Let me carry him.”

"A song, a song is calling my name. I feel it. Pain, sorrow, regret, I am sorry, Cole. Ir abelas, Ir abelas. Too late. He saw clearly too late. Guilt. Another death Pride carries. He wants to guide me to peace. Yes. His heart is hurting and he cannot fix it."

Cullen was the one to pull her away shortly after they arrived at camp, placing Cole’s amulet in her hand, gently telling her to let him go. That night, she crammed whatever she could into her pack and trekked North.

In the distance, the mating call of the Lark graciously brought Ellana out of her thoughts. One by one, the forest’s smells, sounds, and the touch of its rich soil against her feet brought Ellana back to the present. The sun will set soon and she needed to make camp. With a heavy sigh, Ellana placed one foot in front of the other and continued forward _._

Sometime after dinner, a familiar voice lit up the crystal, sending a warm sensation across her chest. "Ellana, are you there?" Dorian’s voice was a soothing balm to her erratic emotions. "I wanted to let you know that we all made it back safely to Skyhold. Good night, my friend. Stay safe, where ever you are.”

“Good night, Dorian,” she whispered after the light had faded.

Placing the crystal safely under her shirt, Ellan reached into her pack and pulled out the leathered-worn journal she had kept with her since it arrived six months ago. It was old, worn around the edges, and still carried the faint smell of parchment paper and ink. Its contents were preserved with old magic and warded with a spell that only they both knew. It was his response to their heated exchange in the Fade after he finally allowed her to find him. She has yet to view its pages, choosing instead to add to their story. Stretching out her legs, Ellana flipped to an empty page and began sketching her surroundings. 

That night, Ellana found herself walking the halls of Skyhold, leading her straight to the rotunda. The room was as she remembered, a perfect replica of their time together. The space was familiar, warm and inviting, with the faint smell of candle wax and books. His desk was stacked high with ancient tomes and scattered parchment paper stained with ink. His chair was slightly angled, turned in the way he would move it when he made room for her. And in the farthest corner, he stood with his back turned to her, gently placing the finishing touches on his latest painting.

He was dressed simply as before. When he was still her Solas. 

She was afraid to breathe, even more, afraid to break the silence. Their last meeting was heated, cruel words exchanged with the sole purpose to hurt. They have not spoken since and she had convinced herself that he was no longer her heart. But seeing him again brought an old yearning that she no longer cared to fight.

His brush strokes faltered slightly the closer she came, only to resume with intent when she stopped behind him. He knew she was studying his painting, observing it with a keen eye, as she often did when he painted. He did not know what to say, carrying the guilt as much as she did. He had felt Cole call to him across the Fade, and had listened painfully as the life drained from him. Still haunted by the words spoken that day. She was not responsible and he turned to say so when she interrupted him. 

“Blue." Her voice wavered with a hurt he could not fix. “Clear blue. The shade of his eyes is wrong. They're blue.” 

And as she had done many times before, Ellana pulled the brush from his hand, mixed it with another color, and guided her hand back to the painting. His heart launched at the memory and before he thought otherwise, found his place on top of hers.

"Here, let me," he whispered, asking for permission while waiting for her to refuse. The words were familiar, just like before, and together they both finished the painting.  

The mural beautifully captured the day Cole had experienced the emotion of Love. Ellana and Solas were in her bedroom at Skyhold, both immersed in their own reading when Cole’s voice interrupted. “Ar lath ma. Love. Joy. Peace. She is his everything. She is happy. Warm. Full of hope. He is her heart. What is this? Love. It's love.” Cole had placed his hand over his heart and disappeared. He had spent the remainder of the week observing love in its many forms. 

“I remembered this day. Cole had told me afterward that it was the first time he had experienced anything like that. It made him curious. He wanted to know more.”

Nodding in agreement, Solas placed the brush down and cast a magical barrier to preserve the memory. “Yes. It is one of many that I cherish.” Then, “Ellana,” he whispered gently, “it was not your fault. What happened to Cole was not your fault.”

“Neither was it yours,” she countered. “Besides, you have to tell Abelas that he is losing his touch. I picked up his signal yesterday afternoon after I reached the Graves. I had expected him this evening but he has yet to make an appearance.” Turning away from him, Ellana made her way towards his desk, shifting and arranging its contents to keep her hands from shaking. She did this often, rearranging items when she was nervous. “I would imagine he would not be pleased when he is informed.”

“I will bear that in mind,” he said. She couldn’t tell to which of her remarks he was responding to. But the air crackled with his magic the closer he came towards her. “Ellana … look at me,” he whispered. Too closely that she can feel his breath against her neck. She didn’t know why his words hurt. Why all it took for her to become an emotional mess was for him to say she was not responsible. It hurt more to confirm how much she still valued his opinion.

“I'm sorry about before, about what I said.” Her voice had become erratic, breath hitching to find a calming rhythm. “I was hurt and spoke out of anger. I didn’t mean the things I said. I said horrible things, and I-- I know I hurt you.” By then he had pulled her close, arms wrapped protectively around her shaking body. “I -- I just wanted --”.

"Ir abelas, ma vhenan. You have nothing to apologize for," he says softly. His heart humbled with her apology, but he was undeserving of her forgiveness. He has done things to defy and hurt her. And to still know that she trusted him in her time of need was more than he could have hoped for. Their last meeting was angry, an exchange of words that he could never take back.  Yet here she was, and he was afraid to let her go. "It is I who owes you an apology." 

"Why?" 

It was such a short word, but one that held dept to a complex situation. He could not deny that she was the reason why he harbored hope that his mind will be changed. Furthermore, he could not deny that he loves her still.

"Because you are ma'vehnan, and I am sorry that I was not there earlier. But I am here now and I have you, I will always have you."  And there he was, his warmth and scent surrounding her, pulling her back to easier times. His presence bringing such happiness that the familiar words almost escaped her lips. They were still at war, on opposing sides, but this felt right. He was her heart, her home, and she needed him. "Please believe me when I say it was not your fault." And like he had often done in her time of need, Solas held his heart close as she wept with grief. 

**Author's Note:**

> OMG!!!!! I am replaying Dragon Age Inquisition and have discovered that I am still stuck in Sollavelan Hell. The torture is REAL guys! I have not written in a long time and would love to hear your thoughts and feedback. Thanks in advance for your support!


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